Over the course of the few short years in which he had lived here, Renley had come to realize that Rhy'Din was fantastically boring. For the most part, the people were dull and dim-witted. There was hardly a one who could hold a candle to an intellectual conversation, let alone stimulate his fancy. For a while he was beginning to wonder why he even remained in this awfully dreary city, but then he remembered.

Rhy'Din was a rich city. Money flowed through the streets like rain water pouring down gutters. Nobody ever seemed to want for anything. Everybody could afford to buy everything. And nobody ever really gave a care of notice when a coin or two went missing from their purses.

For the better part of two years he had pretty much lived his life as a thief. He had not exactly lived a charming life by doing so. But the money he filched from the ridiculously unwary had paid the bills. He had given up his room at the Silver Moon Inn and purchased a street level flat near the Marketplace. He had filled that flat sparingly with furniture and didn't bother with any decorations.

It would have been pointless to fill his home with decorations. On the one hand he couldn't appreciate them for lack of being able to see them. On the other hand, excess clutter only got in the way. If there was one place in this city where he was certain not to trip over anything it was his own apartment.

The fact that Rhy'Din was rich and fat on money was not the only reason he stayed. Renley had a few bones to pick with a couple of dispicable people yet. In all the time he had lived here, he had gone through two dogs and now was reluctant to get himself another one.

Ezra had died a miserably idiotic death by being impaled on the back of some disgustingly rude creature who had got it in his head to defend some girl he suspected the blind man of stalking. The border collie had, of course, observed the girl's surly protector as a threat and jumped into the fray before Renley had a chance to stop him. He vaguely missed Ezra from time to time. That stupid dog had been a good one, obedient to the core.

Then there came the stray. To this day he still had no idea where the mutt had come from or why it had chosen him to follow around. Nod's fur had been more wiry and bristly than Ezra's soft and sleek, thick coat, but the mutt was possessed of a keener intelligence than the border collie had ever owned up to. For one, Nod hadn't been stupid enough to jump blindly to his defense without given the strict order to do so. The dog had been loyal, that was certain, but trusted his adopted master's instincts before his own.

Nod's death had been another stupid accident, and he blamed that cursed blood sucker Sinjin for all of that. There had been a power struggle over who was in control of the dog. He could sense the vampire's influence in the animal's mind and pushed with all his might and power to eject him from Nod's conscience. By doing so, he had crushed the poor mutt's brain into goo himself, quite by accident, but if Sinjin would have left well enough alone it never would have happened.

So now, Renley lived alone, without a dog to guide him. Not that he particularly needed a dog to guide him. It was just that he had marked them as a clever convenience. Everybody always assumed a dog at a blind man's side meant the animal was a working dog, a guide dog, a seeing eye dog. Though it had been useful to use the dog's eyes in place of his own, he didn't need to. There were plenty of eyes all over this city for him to borrow when he wanted, and hardly a soul was any wiser of their aid to him.

That was the way Renley Killian preferred things to be. So long as he could walk the streets unhindered, annoyingly pitied by those who marked his handicap, he was happy. But anyone who knew what he could do was an inconvenience. Sinjin knew. Supposing he knew -- and Renley knew the vampire had an irritatingly big mouth -- then chances were likely that other people knew. That man was a link in a chain that needed breaking.

Renley had made more enemies than he had friends in his time here, but that didn't bother him. He was a strong believer in that old adage of keeping your friends close but your enemies closer. The less people he had to depend on the happier he was. If he had learned anything in his younger years it was that you couldn't even trust your friends. In the end they'll all betray you, so it was best to beat them to the punch.

In the grand scheme of things, he never once considered himself a villainous sort. Renley had no real motivation, except perhaps a pinch of vengeance. Money was too easy to be had for him to crave it. Power, perhaps, was a goal. Every day he meditated and grew wiser on his own abilities. He gathered books written in Braille to glean knowledge from. It had been a long while since he had seen Ssz'tyr, and that was good. He hadn't much liked the drow anyway, despite his willingness to be his mentor.

Renley Killian was far too independent. Though he had to admit that Ssz'tyr had taught him a few extra helpful tricks, the drow irritated him to no end. There was a little spot reserved in his revenge core especially for him. Thinking on that kiss the drow had given him still made him sick to his stomach. Oh, he had it in mind to make him regret that one day, but all in due time.

He was in no hurry. Patience, he had read, was a virtue. Perhaps it was his only virtuous trait. Though one had to wonder just how exemplary a king cobra was, waiting coiled tight beneath a rock, waiting for the python to slither by, unknowing of his enemy laying in wait, before it jumped out to strike and make a meal of its prey. Renley was that cobra, and he had been waiting a long time.

Beyond thoughts, there were emotions, and emotions were the one thing about any living creature that remained universal. Men felt fear and dogs felt fear. Dogs felt hunger and cats felt hunger. Cats felt fatigue and birds felt fatigue. Emotions are the one language that every species share in common, and Renley had a touch of empathic talent as well as telepathic. Switching from sensing thoughts to feelings was as easy as flipping a switch.

He sensed surprise in spades. There were three of them in that alley. Based on sensing thoughts alone, he hadn't known that before. When he flipped that mental switch to sense emotions instead, the whole of the city flooded in around him like a vice. Fortunately, he stepped away from the majority of them, put them to his back, and was able to concentrate on what lay ahead. Three drow. He remembered now. Dark skinned elves like Ssz'tyr. Drow.

All three of them held their breaths in unison. Not a single one of them moved. He could sense an adrenaline rush of victory and a swelling of glee. He knew that feeling. He knew what it meant. These three suddenly thought that their success was assured the moment he blindly, literally blindly, walked into their alley. The rabbit had hopped right into their cleverly concealed trap, so they thought. They were wrong, of course, but he decided not to let them know that right away. It was more fun to play along.

Renley played up the act of being cheerfully oblivious and started to hum himself a jaunty little tune he'd heard in one tavern or another in his time. The noise was a good diversion as well as a useful tool. Sound carries, and echoes, and having gone his entire life devoid of sight he knew how to guide himself by those sounds that most people disregard.

"Way too crowded out there today," he said to himself, briefly breaking his hum. "Think I'll take the short cut home and just give up on trying to get to the grocer." Of course, he was lying through his cleverly concealed teeth.

A wave of calm confidence washed over him from the left and the right. Had to give these drow credit. They were exceptionally stealthy. He couldn't even hear them breathing. He could, however, sense them preparing to strike. Like tightly coiled springs just waiting to leap out of a ruined mattress. They were on him on his twentieth step deep into the heart of the alley.

Surprise! They hadn't expected him to be aware of them. The first of them hissed when he bolted aside and the net tumbled carelessly into a puddle to snare itself only water. The second of them swore, he guessed, since it sounded like something Ssz'tyr had said to him once when they were practicing, when the end of the blind man's staff smacked him in the temple.

However, the third of them was right behind him. Renley backed into his chest and put all his weight into shoving him against the wall. A grunt caressed his ear. The hard slap of fabric over flesh striking stone reverberated through his spine. Two out of three were swift to recover from the initial shock. He heard the song of some strange steel sliding out of leather.

"Mir ukta," hissed the one in front of him. The arms of the one against his back snapped around his chest to hold him. Without knowing the language and without reading minds, he was pretty sure he knew what that command had translated to. "Usstan inbal ukta," wheezed the one now holding him. To his right he could feel the other advancing.

Think fast, Renley told himself. There was a scent in the air he didn't much like. Something that slithered in under the stink of garbage and human refuse. Something that tinged his Danger Sense beyond red and into glowing hot as the sun. Hot. Heat. The blind man grinned slyly to himself, wormed a hand into his pocket and found the box of matches he always kept on hand.

Struggling valiantly for show, he wriggled a single match stick out of the box and palmed it. Once more he shoved his weight into the chest of the drow holding him to slam the wind out of his lungs. He used that body as leverage to get an arm up and kicked out at the one in front of him. The lead drow was quick enough to evade connection, but that didn't matter. Renley only wanted to buy himself a little more time.

"Xun naut elgg ukta! L' Jabbress ssinssrinen ukta dro, ajak," the leader of the pack barked hushly. The drow to his right shuffled hesitantly. Renley sensed he just barely managed to restrain the urge to lash out, likely stab him. So, they didn't want him dead for some reason. Even better.

Getting his hand and the match stick out of his pocket, Renley flicked his thumb against the tip and struck it alight. "Just because I can't see you boys doesn't mean I'm entirely helpless," he told them, grinning fiercely. "I hope you brought some marshmallows along for this trip, because things are about to get toasty."

He couldn't see it himself, but the three drow could. In the palm of his hand he held a small sphere of fire. The fingers of his other hand teased the air currents, and he could feel them like strings. A pinch of wind and a dash of fire. All under his perfect control.

"Faer?" queried the leader uncertainly.

Renley had heard that tone before. Without knowing the word, he knew the reaction well enough. "No," he laughed. "Not magic." The blind man drew in a deep breath. "Force of will," he exhaled, all for show.

The globe of fire in the palm of his hand expanded to three times its size in an instant and leaped from his fingers. He heard the whiffing crunch of the leader drow in front of him being knocked back by the blast and slamming into the opposite wall. Then he smelled burning flesh and fabric. There were no screams, much to his dissatisfaction.

"Cha'kohkev rivvil faer," snarled the drow to his right. That one lunged. With the turn of his hand, Renley split the raging inferno atop their leader in two and sent the removed half careening toward that one. At the same time he tossed his head back hard to smack the back of his skull into the nose of the one holding him. He felt the sting harshly, but it didn't break his concentration.

The drow who had been holding him let go in favor of holding his own face, which gave Renley ample time to twist around and concentrate on the blaze of his controlled inferno. Using only the power of his well schooled thoughts, he made the fire expand and stretch out. Two were down and neither were screaming, but he could smell them burning, hear them writhing. Just in case the third drow had any bright ideas, he built up a wall of fire between them. "Who sent you?" he demanded.

There was no answer.

"Don't tell me you don't speak common," Renley growled irritably. "Tell me who sent you or I'm going to roast you alive like your two friends here."

He knew the drow was trapped. He imagined a half circle of fire and it became so. A curved ring that caged him against the wall. To his left and behind him the other two were fully engulfed, and no matter how much they stopped, dropped and rolled that fire wasn't going to go out. Why? Because Renley willed it so.

The trapped drow laughed at him. "They are naut my friends."

"Be that as it may," said Renley, unimpressed, "do you really want to wind up like them?"

There was a length of silence while the remaining drow considered the situation. Though he couldn't see it, Renley imagined well enough that he was looking from one to the other and watching them flail about in their death throes. Being burnt alive isn't really one of the better ways to go. Little did the blind man know that a drow male could think of worse ones. "Kill me," he said. "I do naut fear you, human."

"Well, that's a shame," Renley remarked. "Unfortunately, you're of no use to me dead. If you're not going to talk, I guess that means I'm just going to have to get some answers out of you another way." With a dismissive gesture, the flames between them snuffed themselves out.

Before the drow could even think to use this change of events to his advantage, Renley reached out with his will, slipped mentally into the dark elf's mind, and with merely a thought rendered him unconscious. The body crumpled to the ground at his feet but remained breathing. The stink of the other two bodies was an insult to his nostrils, but there was no hope for them. They were dead.

"Times like these," Renley complained as he bent to hoist up the body of the one drow still breathing, "I wish I had a dog."